What are Friends For?
by southernbelle4
Summary: My interpretation of a conversation that we all know had to take place at some point off screen. A discussion between friends leads to an admission from one of them. Takes place mid-season seven. Please review!


What are friends for---  
  
No Characters belong to me (Believe me, if they did, ER-land would be a completely different place)  
  
This is just a short stand alone that I wrote a while back after re- watching "Rescue Me." Sorry if it sucks. Review please.  
  
Summary: You know that this conversation had to take place off screen at some point. This is just my interpretation of how the question came about. Just read it and you'll see what I mean.  
  
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I don't even know why I went there. I should have known they wouldn't accept this child. The shocked look on my mother's face when she came to see me today at work should have tipped me off. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, her disappointment never failed to consume her face.  
  
Then she found out about the father, and that was it. I knew that I couldn't spend Thanksgiving there. I thought I'd rather go home to an empty apartment than stay at the mansion full of people.  
  
Yet, I didn't go home. Alone didn't feel right to me. I went to the only place I really felt someone cared, but I'm honestly not sure why. I somehow found myself sitting on the leather couch in the lounge back at work. Not the most comfortable piece of furniture, but as swollen as my ankles were, I couldn't have cared less.  
  
"Hey, what are you doing back?"  
  
I jumped when I heard my friend's voice.  
  
"Oh, John. I, uh, I went to my parents house, but-"  
  
"But things didn't go over well, right?" he finished my sentence.  
  
I struggled to sit up, and he sat down on the arm of the couch.  
  
"Right. I didn't want to spend the rest of the holiday alone, so I figured I'd come in and take an extra shift or something."  
  
"Not in your condition, you won't. You already worked twelve hours today. You need your rest."  
  
"John, I'm fine," I protested.  
  
"I'm off in ten minutes. We'll go get something to eat."  
  
He stood up to exit the room.  
  
"But-"  
  
"No but's."  
  
"What is going to be open on Thanksgiving at 10:30 at night?"  
  
"Uh- fast food?"  
  
The thought of a greasy hamburger made me nauseous, and the baby inside of me do somersaults. I covered my mouth with my hand to show my disgust.  
  
"I take that as a no. Got any good leftovers?" he chuckled jokingly.  
  
"Spaghetti."  
  
"Sounds good to me. That work for you?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Okay. You relax, put your feet up and I'll be done in ten minutes."  
  
I watched him leave the room. This would be good, I thought to myself. It will give me a chance to ask him. It was a big favor to ask of my best friend, but I needed him now more than ever.  
  
Forty-five minutes later, we were entering my apartment, soaking wet. All I wanted to do was dry off and get into some comfortable clothes. I headed to my room, stopping by the bathroom to grab a towel for John to dry off a bit with.  
  
"Spaghetti's in the fridge, if you want to go ahead and put it in the microwave."  
  
"Right," he said, as he ran the towel over his wet head.  
  
I changed into my comfy gray sweat pants and an extra large t-shirt. Ugh, I thought as I looked in the mirror. I'm the size of Moby Dick. Maybe bigger. I guess I could have tried to make myself look a bit more presentable, but it was my apartment, and it was only John. No one I was trying to impress.  
  
I walked back into the kitchen, and saw John searching through my cabinet.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Oh, I was looking for some garlic. I thought you might want some garlic bread to go with the spaghetti."  
  
I giggled at his inability to figure out my kitchen. I walked over to the spice rack, which was hung on the wall right below where he had been searching. I quickly located the garlic and handed it to him.  
  
He seemed a bit embarrassed, but he began to push me towards the living room.  
  
"Okay, I think I can handle it from here. You sit and relax. Get off your feet. I'll prepare a Thanksgiving dinner fit for a queen."  
  
"Oh, this ought to be good."  
  
"You dare chide my culinary abilities?"  
  
"To reheat spaghetti and make toast? I'm not sure."  
  
"Very funny, Deb. Now sit."  
  
"Yes sir!"  
  
I laid down on the couch, but continued to keep an eye on him, for my kitchen's sake.  
  
"I'm not keeping you from some important Carter Family Thanksgiving Tradition am I?"  
  
He laughed as he continued to fix the meal. "Not at all. In fact, I'm the only one in town. Gamma met Mom and Dad in London for some strange reason. She tried to get me to go with her, but I am not fond of the idea of being present at the beginning of World War III."  
  
"They still don't get along? Your mom and grandmother, I mean?"  
  
"Not at all. Besides if I went with her, I wouldn't be able to enjoy this fine traditional Thanksgiving meal."  
  
"Ha. Yeah right."  
  
Just then the timer on the microwave went off and the toaster popped at the same moment.  
  
"See how great a chef I am?"  
  
I simply roll my eyes in sarcasm. A minute later, I had a TV tray in my lap with spaghetti and garlic toast on a paper plate and a glass of water on the side.  
  
"Thank you very much. My compliments to the chef."  
  
John sat on the floor next to the couch with his identical tray in front of him. He picked up the most recent copy of TV Guide.  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"Uh, 11:32. Jay Leno will be on in a few minutes."  
  
"That guy cracks me up."  
  
We turned to the local NBC affiliate, and watched Jay's Thanksgiving monologue. Neither of us were interested in the guest, an actor who played a doctor on this super fake medical drama, so I muted the TV so that we could just talk.  
  
We rambled about the weather, work and some other small topics, which was basically me beating around the bush. How was I supposed to ask him this?  
  
"So how much longer, Deb?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"The Baby? You have to be getting close. I've lost track."  
  
"Oh, one more month, thank God."  
  
"I figured that you would have the nursery and everything set up by now. If you need some help or something, let me know."  
  
He did it. He brought up the topic I had been avoiding for a long time now. My face turned serious.  
  
"There's a reason I haven't set up the nursery, John."  
  
He looked at me with that youthful, confused look on his face that usually made me laugh. But this time I was holding back tears.  
  
"I'm putting him up for adoption."  
  
"W-what?"  
  
"I'm putting him up for adoption. I can't do this by myself. With my job there is no way I can be a good mother."  
  
I stopped for fear that if I went on the tears would be uncontrollable.  
  
"Deb," he said after a few minutes of shocked silence, "I don't know what to say."  
  
"You don't have to say anything. I-I just had to tell someone. I'm sick of keeping it to myself. And my parents-"  
  
I was fighting a losing battle to my emotions. The tears were becoming heavy in my eyes. John was staring up at me from his seat on the carpeted floor. By looking at him I could tell he wasn't sure what to do or what to say. I can't say that I blame him. Was he thinking that I was some terrible heartless person who won't put their own child before their career? Did he agree with me? For once, I had no idea what his thoughts were.  
  
That thought was enough to send me over the edge. The tears came, and my mind was mush. But in an instant, he was beside me, embracing me in that familiar way.  
  
"Hey, it's going to be okay. I promise."  
  
I sobbed into his chest for several minutes until he managed to calm me with his soothing words.  
  
"I know that it's the right thing for me to do John," I sniffled. "But I'm not strong enough to do this alone. I need someone there. I hate to even ask you this, but-"  
  
"Don't even ask. I'll be there whenever you need me to be there. What are friends for? I hate to see you going through this."  
  
I backed out of our embrace, and laid back on the couch. John grabbed my socked feet and began to rub my poor, swollen ankles.  
  
"When did you make this decision?"  
  
"A couple of months ago. Am I a horrible person?"  
  
"Not at all. You know what feels right in your heart. You've just got to follow that."  
  
"Right."  
  
I smiled at him and closed my eyes. I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up, the sun was shining and I had a blanket over me. I was alone, but there was a note taped onto the back of the sofa where I wouldn't miss it. It read:  
  
Deb,  
  
I didn't want to wake you, so I let myself out after you went to sleep. Hope you don't mind. I will see you at work. I meant what I said. Everything will be all right. I promise. I'll be beside you whenever you need me. That's what friends are for, right?  
  
John  
  
P.S. Thanks for the wonderful Thanksgiving dinner.  
  
****  
  
That was a month ago. Now I'm sitting in this hospital room, surrounded by machines and nurses. They make me nervous. But I know I won't be for long. I see John standing outside the door, and I know that everything will be okay.  
  
Because that's what friends are for. 


End file.
